Rescue the Dead

Finally, to forego love is to kiss a leaf,

is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head,

is to respect fire,

is to study man's eyes and his gestures

as he talks,

is to set bread upon the table

and a knife discreetly by,

is to pass through a crowd

like a crowd of oneself.

Not to love is to live.

To love is to be led away

into a forest where the secret grave

is dug, singing, praising darkness

under the trees.

To live is to sign your name,

is to ignore the dead,

is to carry a wallet

and shake hands.

To love is to be a fish,

my boat wallowing in the sea.

You who are free

rescue the dead.